Chapter 10
10
Connie
I left Barles and drove back to the chateau with my nerves on fire. I knew I was done for, that now all my brain would do would be to run over what had happened – or not happened – in the bakery, intercut with that unforgettable night. And I’d be on high alert, wondering when I might bump into him again. Why couldn’t I be all cool and blasé, like a Frenchwoman would be? I was middle-aged, not a teenager, but my stomach still looped the loop when I pictured him at the front of the queue. I could even smell his aftershave – I’d caught a trace of it as he walked past me and it lingered in my mind, making me remember things that made me blush.
I needed to get back and get on with the cleaning. That would bring me back down to earth. I lugged all the bags into the kitchen and dumped them on the table.
‘Right,’ I said to Lilou. ‘We’re going to make a start on the drawing room. By the end of today, I don’t want a speck of dust or a cobweb.’
I headed into battle with all my weapons – mops and buckets and dusters and sponges. I found my favourite playlist and put it on full blast – upbeat motivational singalong tunes which would get us through. As ‘Up Town Funk’ started, Lilou began to smile. That was the joy of music – it transcended language and age barriers, and soon we were both dancing around the room, hard at work, singing at the top of our voices. We might have looked like lunatics but we were having fun.
When ‘The Boy Does Nothing’ came on, I was standing on the sofa where I’d been dusting the beams, doing my best Alesha Dixon impersonation. Lilou was dancing in the middle of the room, totally swept up in the music. We sang our hearts out, laughing at each other, our moves getting more and more ridiculous. I leapt off the sofa doing a vague approximation of the splits sideways in the air as a grand finale and landed in a heap.
As the song finished, I heard someone clearing their throat. I looked up from the floor and saw a man standing in the doorway.
Rémy.
Of course it was. Great. I was a sweaty, sprawling mess, red-faced from both exertion and embarrassment. I rolled onto my knees and began to get to my feet.
To my surprise, Lilou began haranguing him, telling him there was a knocker on the front door and how dare he just walk in? She was going to call the police. He put his hands up and started apologising, half laughing, until I intervened.
‘Lilou, it’s OK. It’s fine.’
She jerked her thumb at him. ‘You know this guy?’
I nodded. ‘We go back a long way.’
Her hands were on her hips as she scowled at him.
‘ Désolé ,’ he said to her, apologising. ‘ Désolé. ’ Then he turned to me. ‘Connie.’
That was all he said. My name. But there were so many things in that one word. Recognition. Pleasure. Conspiracy. Invitation.
Lilou looked between the two of us, eyes wide as she clocked our chemistry.
‘ Ooh là là là là là là. ’ She shrugged with a smirk, her exclamation dripping innuendo. ‘ Je m’excuse. ’
She shimmied out of the room, eyebrows raised as she walked past the interloper, flipping her duster over her shoulder.
‘Hello,’ I said finally.
‘You hid from me this morning,’ he said. ‘Why?’
He’d seen me. Yet he hadn’t flickered. Hadn’t missed a beat.
‘I was embarrassed. Shy. I didn’t know what to say.’
‘Shy?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t remember you shy.’
I watched as he smiled and his face came to life. A facsimile of the face I’d held in my imagination for over twenty-five years. All crinkles and dimples and white teeth and laughing eyes. There were more lines in this version but they added interest. His face was a little thinner; his cheekbones sharper. It was only two o’clock but his five o’clock shadow was early, dappling his jawline. He had on a loose grey coat over the jeans and jumper of earlier. It hung beautifully and moved when he walked towards me, a ripple of fine cashmere.
Ooh là là là là là là.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Just a few days. I’m looking after the chateau while Piers has an operation.’
His face filled with concern.
‘Just his hip,’ I explained. ‘Nothing serious. But they will be in London until Christmas while he recovers.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Good.’
I wasn’t sure if he meant good that it was nothing serious, or good that they’d be away for a while.
‘And you? You’re back too?’ I wasn’t going to give away that I already knew.
‘I’m here to look after my legacy.’
‘No more rugby?’
He pointed to himself, running his finger up and down his body.
‘I am an old man.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so.’
He shook his head. ‘Rugby doesn’t need me anymore. But my family does. My father is ready to hand over.’
‘That’ll be quite a change.’
‘It was always the plan. Wine is in my blood.’
‘And you’re single?’ I had to ask.
‘Divorced. It’s not how I planned it.’ He gave a shrug. ‘And you?’
‘We never married. But we’re separated.’
He looked at me. ‘So – fate decided to bring us back together.’
‘Yes. Quite the coincidence.’
I made light of it. I wasn’t going to tell him how many times I’d dreamed of something like this happening. I used to conjure up some extraordinary set of circumstances: a chance encounter in an airport lounge, a phone-call out of the blue, him sitting at the next table in a restaurant in a city where he happened to be playing and I happened to be on holiday. I never went quite as far as stalking his team and tracking where they were scheduled to play, but in my imagination, anything could happen.
Now, I was trying to look nonchalant and casual, as if I’d barely given him a second thought after our night together.
‘It’s been twenty-seven years,’ he said.
‘Has it?’ I pretended to calculate in my head. ‘Yes, I suppose it must be about that.’
‘You look no different.’
I laughed. I couldn’t look less like my tanned and glossy twenty-three-year-old self. My hair was streaked with grey not blond, and the lines on my face didn’t add character like his did, but signified all the long days and late nights of juggling working motherhood, the rigours of grief at losing Mum, the shock of losing my job and now the pressure of separation. Yet he seemed entranced, gazing at me in open admiration. My heart thudded. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, or where this might take us.
A tiny little voice in my head told me to be careful. Actually, it was Edie’s voice, parroting all the advice I’d ever given her. Play it cool, Mum. Don’t make it easy. She was right. I was vulnerable, and probably quite needy. The last thing I should do was hand Rémy my heart like a rugby ball, for him to manhandle. He was probably bored, back in his hometown, missing the glamour of international rugby and all the attention, looking for a distraction. I was an easy target, on the doorstep. He must know how much power he had. He must have had women throwing themselves at his feet over the years.
And it wouldn’t be right for me to get embroiled with him just as I’d arrived at the chateau. I was here to help Piers and Lismay. It had been one thing having a fling with him on my last night all those years ago, knowing I was leaving the next day. But I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I wasn’t going to throw myself at him. Even if I could feel myself melting, craving his touch. Even though the cologne I’d smelled in the boulangerie was filling my head.
‘Well, it’s very nice to see you but I must get on,’ I said, indicating the room around me. ‘We’ve got a big party to prepare for.’
‘You don’t have time for dinner one night?’
‘Not at the moment, I’m afraid.’
‘When the party is over?’
‘Perhaps.’ I gave a non-committal shrug.
He looked confused. A little crushed, even, and I felt bad. He wasn’t to know that I would walk over hot coals to sit opposite him and gaze into his eyes, and it was all I could do to keep him at bay. I suspected he wasn’t used to rejection.
‘Sorry. I’ve got to look after everything for Lismay and Piers and I don’t want to mess up. It’s a big responsibility, looking after the chateau. I don’t want any distractions.’
I was starting to babble and make excuses. Don’t explain, I reminded myself. You don’t have to justify anything to him. If he was really interested, and not just playing a game because he was bored, he wouldn’t give up. He was going to have to work hard to win me over this time. I was older, possibly wiser, but definitely wary. And if he confused my lack of confidence in myself for aloofness, so much the better. To be mysterious and seemingly unavailable was so much more alluring than being eager. And it was the only weapon I had at this stage, in my tracksuit bottoms.
He nodded, his expression grave, then reached inside the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a business card. ‘OK. You know where I am. If you change your mind, let me know.’
He handed me the card but he didn’t smile. He turned to go, his coat swirling around him. I swallowed, longing to backtrack, to make a date before he left, because how would I ever find the nerve to approach him once he’d disappeared?
‘It’s good to see you.’ The words were out before I could stop them.
He looked back at me. He was grinning, his eyes sparkling. He knew he had won, that I had lost the game of chicken, that I couldn’t keep up my facade. But he didn’t say anything, just raised a hand and swept out of the door. I collapsed onto the sofa, lay back and shut my eyes with a groan, awash with uncertainty and something dark and sweet that circled in little eddies deep inside me.
I sat there for a while, trying to get to grips with my feelings as I slid back down to the bottom of the emotional rollercoaster. Coming to the chateau had turned things around for me. I’d been feeling more in control: of myself, my future, my emotions, and it had given me back some of my confidence. Common sense told me I shouldn’t get involved in something that might set me back.
But when has common sense overruled obsession and, let’s be honest, straight-up lust? Rémy had woken feelings in me I thought were long dead, and his appearing like that was literally a dream come true. How many nights had I spent imagining our reunion? Even when I was with Daniel, occasionally my thoughts would wander back to our night of passion. I was snapped out of my reverie by the appearance of Lilou, who had a face like thunder.
‘Sorry about that.’ I jumped up, flustered, feeling the need to apologise, though what for I didn’t know. ‘What a surprise. I haven’t seen Rémy for a long time.’
She looked me up and down with a mixture of disapproval and concern.
‘The Gaspards think they are better than everyone.’
‘Oh, people are just jealous.’ I made light of her observation. No doubt the locals felt threatened by the success of the vineyard.
‘Especially Rémy. He thinks he is special.’
But he is special, I wanted to say. He walked into a room and commanded attention. Yet I didn’t think he thought he was better than anyone. He was charming. Attentive. Not in the least bit big-headed. Or did I have my rose-tinted spectacles on? Was he offhand and arrogant with people who didn’t matter?
I decided it was irrelevant. My priority right now was transforming the chateau so that it was ready for the party. And for that I needed Lilou on my side. I slid an arm around her shoulder. She stiffened, clearly not used to gestures of affection from people she didn’t know, and I wondered if I’d overstepped a boundary. I was always hugging Harry and Edie’s friends but perhaps that wasn’t the done thing around here.
‘Don’t worry, Lilou. He’s gone now. And we’ve got work to do.’
I pushed a mop into her hand. She looked at me, uncertain what to think, then blinked, nodded and managed a smile. She was unconvinced, I knew, but she set to work again without complaint. And scrubbing the skirting boards was exactly the distraction I needed to stop me thinking about Rémy Gaspard.